A Kitchen Adventure and Other Drabbles
by White Phantom
Summary: Marian and Merrill wake up in the middle of the night and muse over what to make for a snack. Fluff. Merrill/F!Hawke
1. A Kitchen Adventure

_A/N: Just a short fluff prompt from tumblr. Thank you for reading!_

...-...

"Oh, do you think we could make that stew from the other night?" Merrill asked, bouncing a little where she stood in Marian's kitchen. "It was so good."

"It was, wasn't it…what'd we put in that?"

"Um, there was parsley and potatoes and…elfroot? Maybe a bit of embrium… I can't quite remember the rest."

At that, Marian rocked down from her tiptoes, where she'd been rummaging through her pantry. Bodahn did his best to keep the house stocked, but somehow they were always running out of food. Probably because half of her friends came by at least twice a week to steal some.

Not that she or Merrill minded.

It just meant that cooking was, more oft than not, a creative endeavor.

As it was, it was well after midnight and the two of them had woken up hungry. Not wanting to bother Bodahn, they'd decided to make something themselves, and, well… "Didn't we get food poisoning from that?"

"Did we?" Merrill paused, brow pinching together as she thought back. She drummed her fingertips against her chin a moment before frowning. "Oh, we did, didn't we? That's what Anders was yelling about."

Indeed, their mage friend had been quite annoyed when Bodahn had climbed down the ladder leading from the Hawke Estate's basement to Darktown, seeking him out to aid the great Champion of Kirkwall and her dear lover.

He'd stood there, glaring at them after he'd found out what had caused their illness, ignoring their pleas that they regretted everything—mostly that was Marian's wails, to be honest, as Merrill turned out to be like she always was, even with food poisoning.

Which was to say, she was completely adorable. And she'd actually handled the problem a lot better than Marian had.

It was probably the blood magic, not that Marian could fault her for using it. She would have if she'd been able to use magic herself. She would have used most anything to get that ungodly sensation of dying out of her system.

Marian narrowed her eyes at the cabinet, fingers drumming against her hips. "I'm gonna say stew's out." Even as Merrill sighed an agreement, she shook her head. "It was good, though. …Until it nearly killed us."

"What about…" Merrill debated the different things they might make for a moment before walking over to Marian and looping her arms around one of Marian's. Merrill rested her chin on Marian's shoulder, peering up at their stocks as well. "If you've any spider meat, I could make one of my clan's dishes. We'd need pepper, too."

"Spider meat," Marian repeated, narrowed gaze still sweeping their pantry. "I don't think they sell that at the market."

Merrill rolled her eyes and leaned into Marian briefly. "No, but remember we brought some back after our last trip to the coast."

"Right…the spider that nearly ate Varric." Marian frowned. "I think he took all of it."

Arching her brow, Merrill straightened up. "But he hates spider meat."

"I know, but he said he was going to eat it out of spite," Marian stopped, thinking back. "Or was it irony? Ironic spite? Is it ironic if he eats the spider that tried to eat him?"

"I think so?" Merrill suddenly perked up, letting go of Marian and moving over to their food, pushing a few ingredients to the side that looked like they had seen better days—likely they were things Marian had found during their exploring that she'd felt they could definitely salvage. Bodahn never had the heart to throw any of that mess away. "With these, I can make a nice broth."

"It's not going to poison us, is it?"

"Not so long as we cook it long enough."

With a grin, Marian looped an arm around Merrill's shoulders and pressed a quick kiss to her temple. "Perfect. I'll get the cutting board."


	2. Thievery

"I hope you understand that this is mine now."

Merrill glanced over at her from where she was getting dressed near their dresser. "What's yours?"

"Oh, just your hairstyle," Marian stated as she looked at herself in the mirror. Merrill had taken the time to do Marian's hair in the same manner that she usually did hers, and the small ponytails dotted her head, looking a little odd, but pretty none-the-less.

At that, Merrill trotted over to her, leaning down and draping her arms around Marian's neck. "I knew you'd like it."

"Merrill, you're supposed to be upset. I'm stealing your hairstyle."

"But I think it's pretty. We match," she chirped, leaning her head against Marian's and swaying a little so that they both moved one way and then the other, like tall grass in the wind.

"You're missing the point," Marian complained, slouching back against her. "If I steal it, it's not yours anymore."

"Oh."

It was such a sad, dejected little 'oh'.

Marian frowned at her mirror before dropping it onto her desk. "I know what you're doing."

"What am I doing?"

"You're guilt tripping me into giving it back," Marian muttered, not looking up. The second she saw Merrill's eyes, she'd do damned near anything the elf asked. It made it damned near impossible to win the few disagreements they'd had over the years.

"Well," Merrill started, taking her time to choose her words with care. "I suppose I don't mind you keeping it if we share it."

With a dramatic sigh, Marian closed her eyes and leaned her head back on Merrill's shoulder. "That is not the point of stealing, Merrill."

"Well, maybe you're not a very good thief."

At that, Marian's eyes snapped open and she straightened up. Merrill eased her grip on her so that Marian wouldn't have to struggle free in her indignance. "You take that back. I'm a great thief."

The look Merrill was giving her said that there were doubts.

"I've stolen plenty of things." Narrowing her eyes, Marian brought a hand up over her heart. "Remember when I stole the knight-commander's weird circlet…crown…thing?"

Crossing her arms, Merrill twisted her lips to one side briefly. "Does it really count as stealing if you get caught?"

"Getting caught and having people know it was you are two very different things," Marian clarified. "They never proved it was in my possession." Though…everyone at the Hanged Man had seen Marian twirling around the tables as she wore it, but…that was beside the point. They were a good sort and none of them had sold her out—might have been because they were afraid of incurring the knight-commander's wrath, but Marian liked to think it was an odd sort of loyalty instead.

Sounded happier that way.

With a slow nod, Merrill sauntered over to Marian's desk and sat on the edge. "Does it count as stealing if you give it back?"

"Yes," Marian rolled her eyes. She'd had to return the knight-commander's personal affects after it became clear that the woman knew she'd done it and had every intent to overturn every piece of furniture and floor tile in the Hawke estate until she found it.

And she'd planned on bringing a lot of templars with her. They'd have found Merrill—not that that would have been some great feat, considering Merrill lived there—and they would have likely found the passage down to Anders' clinic in Darktown, which would have ended horribly for everyone.

In the end, Marian had slipped the circlet-thing into the knight-captain's room, told the knight-commander that she'd heard a rumor that one of her templars had a weird thing for her, and then sat back and basked in the awkwardness that ensued when they found the damned trinket in the knight-captain's room.

While Meredith had _known_ it was Marian in her shriveled heart of hearts, she hadn't been able to dismiss that it might have actually been her second in command who'd made off with her crown thing, and that had them on poor terms for over a week.

"So even if you steal my hairstyle, you can still give it back."

"I…what, wait? How did we get here from there?"

"I suppose I don't mind if you steal it for a little while, but I like it, so I will need it back eventually." With that, Merrill hopped up from her seat and headed toward the hall.

Marian swiveled around in her seat to watch her go. "Merrill, that's not fair. You can't give me permission."

As she swung the door open, Merrill looked back at Marian, lips forming a little u as her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Love you, Hawke…"

And with that, she was gone. Even as Marian sat there in stunned silence, Merrill's voice drifted back to her. "If breakfast is cold when you get downstairs, you'd better not complain."

With a groan, Marian vaulted to her feet and hurried after her wife.


	3. Of Storms and Wounded Coasts

_A/N: Thank you to everyone who reads!_

...-...

"What?" Marian yelled as she tried to talk louder than the rain pounding the beach around them.

Merrill pushed her hair back from her face—while it wasn't much longer than Marian's, when soaked, it was still long enough to get in her eyes—and mimicked her attempts to be heard. "I told you it was going to rain!"

While Marian was fairly certain there was not resentment in her lover's statement, she couldn't help but feel guilty anyway.

They're had been so much wrong in Kirkwall, and none of it had a quick solution.

Thus, while pondering what to do, Merrill had abruptly stood up and said, "Let's go to the beach." When Marian had raised an eyebrow, the elf had smiled brightly. "When I was with my clan and had a problem, it helped to get away from everything for a while."

Marian had considered it, remembering how she'd always found time to go down to a small creek near Lothering when she was too worked up with everything going on there. Maker, but those were simpler times. Fighting with Carver, pestering Bethany, listening to Mother and Father argue over what to plant in the garden…

She'd felt trapped sometimes. Other times, she'd just been afraid that she would look up and see templars marching down on them to take away her father and Bethany.

Now, everything was so much more complicated. She wished her father were there to give advice—he always had great advice—but seeing as he wasn't, she'd perked up and nodded to Merrill. "Why the beach, though?"

"Well, we've never really just gone there for fun, so I thought maybe we could try to see it from a less…hostile perspective."

Merrill had been right, of course. She was so often right, it made Marian grin.

Just like she'd been right about the rain.

When she'd said it looked like the clouds were coming in quickly, and they'd be lucky to make it home before the storm hit, Marian hadn't been able to bring herself to head in just yet. They'd spent the better part of the late morning and early afternoon gathering seashells and herbs and shiny rocks, and it was all so perfect.

Just them, no templars, no Circle, no Chantry.

Just them.

Anders would have probably been mad at them for shirking their duties to help the downtrodden, but one could only charge forward for so long before a break—even a tiny break—was needed.

Marian hadn't realized how much she'd needed hers until she'd been out there, splashing Merrill with waves and trying to beat the waves to the shells her lover wanted. Merrill had gone after a few herself, and they'd made a game of pointing out shells for the other to get. They'd been laughing and holding hands and…

And this was the way life was supposed to be.

And Merrill had seen the clouds.

What Marian still didn't quite get, however, was that Merrill could have insisted that they hurry back, yet instead, she'd simply dropped the subject.

It hadn't been until the waves had started getting dicey and the first drops of rain began to fall that she suggested they head back.

And now they were huddled under a tree as the winds whipped the branches overhead and the sky crackled with light and sound.

Marian almost missed Merrill calling her name over the pounding of the rain, but when she looked down, Merrill kissed her on the cheek.

Even as Marian blinked water out of her eyes, Merrill wrapped her arms around Marian, speaking as loudly as she could to say, "We should do this again."

As another clap of thunder rolled overhead, Marian drew Merrill closer, oblivious to the squishy clothes between them. Rather than try to yell an answer, she kissed Merrill's temple and then her lips.

They would definitely be doing this again.


	4. Pining Away

_A/N: Pre-relationship pining. Thank you all for reading!_

...-...

"Uh, Hawke?"

Varric's voice interrupted Marian's thoughts, and she blinked, straightening up in her seat and glancing at him and then the door for any signs of templars or any of the many people who wanted her dead. "What is it?"

"Oh, nothing really," Varric shrugged before nudging her with an elbow. "Just gets boring watching you pine away when we've got work to plan."

Marian scrunched her brow, eyeing the dwarf a moment before shrugging. "I'm not pining."

"Right. Of course. My mistake." Varric rolled his eyes and then looked past her and gasped. "Merrill's getting hit on by that skeezy prat near the bar!"

Marian was half out of her seat, dagger in hand and ready to throw before she realized that he'd made it up. Her shoulders slouched a little as she slumped back into her seat, gaze scanning the room until she found Merrill winding her way through the crowd with their latest round of drinks.

The dim light in the Hanged Man made her short brown hair shine, and accented her skin and the curves of her so elegantly. It was like she was watching a princess move through the bar, gracing the unworthy masses with the occasional, "Oops, sorry…" and "Oh dear, was that your toe? I hope you're alright…"

She was such a saint with that beautiful lilt to her voice, that amazing ability to spring back from cruel words, and that devotion to what she believed was right. How had Marian been lucky enough to cross paths with such a beautiful woman?

"Hawke." Varric's voice punctured her musings.

"We'll be the cutest couple in existence, someday."

A sharp snort let her know that she'd said that out loud, and Marian paled as she slowly glanced toward Varric to see that shit-eating grin that said he was never going to let her live this down.

Before she could threaten him not to say a word, Merrill was settling into her seat across from Marian and handing out the drinks. She flashed Marian a brilliant smile, and her heart melted, though it was quickly turned brittle as Merrill chirped, "So what did I miss?"

"Oh, just some talking of pining."

Marian was going to toss that damned dwarf in the harbor.

"Pining?" Merrill perked up a little. "Who for who?" When neither of them responded right away and Marian couldn't help but give her a horrified look, Merrill's smile fell. "I…you are talking about romantic interest, yes? Or there some other meaning to the word—a human one maybe—that I don't know?"

As she looked between them, worry growing with each passing second, Marian finally reached out, but stopped herself before she took Merrill's hand. "You're thinking of the right word. It's just nothing, really. Varric's being an ass."

"Oh."

Why did she look so disappointed?

No, no, no.

There had to be a way to fix this, to turn the conversation elsewhere to something Merrill would enjoy. Marian didn't know enough about magic to have a decent conversation, though, and she found herself drawing blank after blank as the silence stretched on over their little table in the back of the room.

Merrill fidgeted a little, ears wilting slightly.

"You know, I don't mind a bit of gossip. I know I don't have much to share myself, but—"

"We were talking about Fenris," Marian somehow managed to blurt, hating the dejected look that had overcome Merrill's features. "He the one pining. Just…kinda sad."

"Fenris?" Merrill echoed. For a moment, her brow pinched together, and Marian thought she'd done well. After all, while Merrill didn't particularly dislike Fenris, he was not fond of her at all, and thus they tended to avoid talking about him since it was so awkward. However, even as Marian commended herself on the save, Merrill shrugged a little, perking up and leaning into the table. "Who's he pining for?"

"Anders."

For fuck's sake.

Really?

There was no way Merrill would believe that. Some might dismiss her as gullible, but Marian knew better. She was a brilliant mage, after all. And while she could get cultural things and the like wrong, she wasn't stupid.

Merrill's brow pinched together, the corners of her mouth dipping down. "Fenris…likes…Anders?"

"Yeah," Marian nearly choked on the word, though she leaned against the table and tried to play it off as nothing. "You know…he's always giving him…looks…"

Merrill's gaze lowered toward the table as she tilted her head, considering what Marian was saying, frown still in place. "I always thought those were looks of contempt and rage."

Even as Marian cursed herself, wondering how she could correct this blunder without telling Merrill that people glaring at her meant they liked her, Varric stepped in. "Those. What you're thinking of? Definitely are." As Merrill's attention shifted to the dwarf, Marian held her breath, wondering where he was going. "It's just the other day, we thought we saw something else…" He paused for effect and then shrugged. "But we were pretty sure it was the lighting."

"Oh, well. That does make sense," Merrill nodded. "The lighting, I mean. I don't think either of them are very fond of the other."

"Yeah…" Marian trailed off, before leaning against the table again and dropping her voice conspiratorially. "We probably don't want to mention that to anyone, though, because I think they'd both get annoyed that we even entertained the notion."

Merrill leaned forward as well, nodding firmly. "Right. Not a word."

Even as Marian felt her heart fluttering she heard a noise and glanced to her side to see Varric giving her one of his disapproving looks. She frowned at him as she settled back in her seat. "So then. About intercepting that cargo…"

Merrill instantly perked up, tossing out a few suggestions about how they could block the road and the like.

It took a few more minutes for Marian to get back into the swing of things, as she kept expecting Varric to say something else about her earlier confession.

The dwarf, however, simply turned his mind back to work, leaving Marian to wonder just how bad it would really be if Merrill found out how fond she was of her.


	5. Mirror, Mirror

_A/N: Thank you so much for reading! This is a little bit angsty toward the end._

...-...

"It's gone!"

Marian blinked as she looked up from the latest treatise that Anders had left in her house—how the man came and went without her ever seeing him was only slightly unnerving, considering she'd rather have him roaming and free than dead on the end of templar's blade.

Merrill bound up the stairs to their study, panic in her eyes.

As soon as she saw her, Marian perked up, setting the treatise to the side and rising. "Merrill! I've been looking for you all morning. I wanted to tell you—"

"The eluvian is gone!" Merrill cried out, stumbling to a stop. "There was a raid on the Alienage and they're saying the Templars took anything suspicious with them." Her fingers were in her hair as she paced back and forth. "Half of my things are gone, but most of it can be replaced. Not—"

Even as she spoke, with Marian holding up her hands and trying to interrupt, she drew to a stop and stared at a small halla carving sitting on one of the bookshelves. Slowly, she moved over to it, her hands reaching out as though she expected the trinket to be some trap.

When it was in her hands and she'd thoroughly flipped it this way and that, Marian coughed gently.

"I didn't mean to take things without asking, but Carver gave me word that there was going to be a raid and I knew you weren't going to be back for a while, so Varric and a few others helped me clean out your place. We didn't take everything—we didn't have time—but we took what we could carry and what looked particularly magical."

Merrill stood there a moment, staring at Marian with wide eye, her mind slowly comprehending what she was saying.

"Then…the eluvian…"

"Is in the basement." Marian hesitated before adding, "Fenris wanted to leave it where Anders can come up from Dark Town, but I figured he might panic if he was tired and saw a face there to greet him. So…it's in a side room, wrapped up and safe. We were very careful with it, and made sure we got all the pieces…"

Even as Marian spoke, Merrill darted away, taking the stairs four at a time as she bounded down them. Marian was on her heels, apologizing to Bodahn when they nearly ran him down and then waving to Sandal and Orana, who were helping bring in groceries.

Groceries that would be gone in a day or two, if her friends dropped by.

That was a matter for another time, though.

Merrill made a beeline to the basement, and was ready to open every door when Marian pointed to the one that hid her belongings. Practically tripping over herself, Merrill stumbled into the room and jerked the sheets that had been draped over the mirror—Isabela had done that, claiming that the thing creeped her out—and finally came to a stop.

She stood there, in front of it, and Marian could see her eyes moving in her reflection as the elf checked every corner for signs of wear or cracks. While she wanted to offer some comfort, Marian wasn't sure what to say.

When Merrill had wanted to keep some of her belongings at her old home, Marian had been fine with that. She'd wanted to respect her personal space.

But the Templars…if they'd found the mirror, they would have likely broken it or, worse, decided to hunt down the owner.

Marian hadn't wanted Merrill dragged off—while she was at odds with the Templars, even Marian wasn't fool enough to try to take on the whole organization unless something horribly drastic happened.

Like Merrill getting captured.

And so she'd hoped that Merrill would understand, and had brought her belongings to where she figured they'd be safest. Home.

Merrill's fingers lightly touched the smooth surface of the eluvian before she turned and looked at Marian, confused. "You hate this."

While she'd been ready for half a dozen accusations or other comments, she hadn't expected that. "I…"

"You wanted me to stop working on it."

"I still do," Marian murmured before she could stop herself. Looking down, she swallowed and then took in a deep breath. "I don't know that it's safe, but…you're a brilliant mage and I trust you and…" Marian ran her fingers through her hair, frowning at her feet. "I wouldn't want you to lose something you care for, when it's in my power to keep it safe."

Merrill stood there another moment before stepping away from the mirror and wrapping her arms around Marian's waist, resting her head against her shoulder. "I love you."

With a half smile, Marian wrapped her arms around Merrill as well and swayed with her, placing a few quick kisses on the crown of her head. "I love you, too."

Merrill snuggled closer a moment before whispering, "I don't think we should keep this in the house, though."

"Oh, thank the Maker," Marian breathed, grinning when Merrill stepped back and shoved her arm. "But…we'll keep it here until it's safe to move."

Attention already back on the mirror, Merrill nodded, "…until it's safe."

As she moved back to that ancient artifact, she didn't notice the way Marian's face fell as soon as she wasn't watching.

That Merrill had learned of the mirror's disappearance before Marian could tell her meant that the first thing Merrill had gone to when she came back was the mirror.

It was surprising how much that realization stung, though Marian hid her hurt behind a smile as Merrill turned back to her, offering that they should probably cover it again until they found it a better home.


	6. Jitters

_A/N: I'll have the thrilling conclusion up in a week or two (also I'm terrible with time, so it might be a little longer)._

...-...

"So." Varric crossed his arms as he looked straight at Marian.

She mimicked the action. "So."

They stood there like that a few moments on one of the many stairways Lowtown, ignoring the denizens of Kirkwall as they hurried past, instead staring each other in the eyes—damn Varric for getting the high ground so that he could meet her gaze even.

"So…" He lifted one hand and motioned in a wide circle for her to continue.

"So?" Marian parroted, blinking innocently at him. She was ready to do this all day. Determined really.

She knew why he'd found her, even if he pretended their encounter had been an innocent happenstance. The dwarf was too smart, always piecing things together—most annoyingly when it was something she thought that he pieced together before _she_ realized she thought it.

But, today she'd known what she was doing, so that was fortunately not the case.

She hoped.

The only way she'd know was if she got him to talk first.

And if this was what she thought it was, then she didn't need him prying. Not yet. Once everything was said and done, he could ask whatever question he wanted, and she'd readily tell him everything, either in elation or despair.

But she couldn't talk with him about it yet.

Varric was a good sort, a wonderful friend, but he had a flare for the exaggeration and theatrics, and she didn't want to involve others if Merrill didn't…

"So?" It was deceptively innocent, and she narrowed her eyes as he mirrored her earlier question.

With a shrug, her mouth twisted into a pronounced frown as her brow raised. "So…"

Maybe she should just run. She could beat him up the stairs, assuming he didn't get tired of her antics and just shoot her in the leg. Not that he actually would…but if she ran, he'd follow and he'd probably pick up Isabela and whoever else was at the tavern and then she'd have an audience and this was something private.

After all, she didn't want Merrill to feel obligated to say yes just because their friends were staring her down.

Was there something else she could say? Maybe she could spin the news toward her siblings or ask him about Bianca or…

He'd see right through any idle banter, and he'd weave it around to what he wanted to talk about.

Fucking writers.

No.

She was definitely going to need to win this, to have him start the conversation, to give up on trying to squeeze information out of her. Or just prove that he was interested in something other than…

"Heard you were in Lowtown and you didn't stop by the Hanged Man."

Victory!

With a shrug, Marian raised an arm, palm up as she rolled her gaze toward the sky. "I was just passing through."

"Passing through?" Varric cocked his head. "Where would you go that you'd have to go through Lowtown?"

Dammit.

Why was she so terrible at keeping secrets? How the hell had Bethany not been stolen away by templars ages ago?

Seriously.

Even as she remembered that her sister had turned herself in to the Circle, Varric arched a brow, mere expression asking if he needed to point out she was on the wrong side of Lowtown to be coming back from a day of harassing templars and visiting with her sister.

Saying she'd gone to Darktown was out because she'd either use the basement path from her home to see Anders, or go in a party. She might have been an apt fighter, but she wasn't about to go through Darktown on her own, and Varric knew that.

That left the obvious.

He knew she'd been to the Alienage, and with Merrill living with her, there were few people she'd have gone there to see.

Did he already know she'd gone to visit Arianni? Did he know her plans? Was he just toying with her in some sadistic game?

"You know watching your facial expressions change is like having a full conversation with you, right?" Varric finally interrupted her spiraling thoughts.

Marian frowned again. "No, it's not."

"It's why I'm always having to buy off templars to make sure they don't raid your house."

Marian held up a hand with her index finger extended, only to waver as she realized she had no argument. As her finger curled into itself, and she glanced toward the ground, Varric paced down a few steps to stand in front of her.

"Isabela was going to ask you and Merrill to come out for drinks tonight." When Marian's gaze snapped toward him, he gave her a half smile and shook his head. "I'll make sure I run into her first and let her know you'll be busy." He paused, letting his gaze wander before it snapped back to Marian. "Unless you're free."

"We can make it," Marian mumbled before giving up. He knew. He had to. Maybe it would be easier this way, after all, she would need backup. "Gonna be out of town a few days after, though. You in?"

"Always." With a dry laugh, he lightly thwacked Marian on the arm as he started down the steps, heading off as though he actually had business somewhere this way. "See you later." Even as she echoed the sentiment, he called out to her, and she glanced back. There was a mischievous sparkle in his eyes as he added, "For what it's worth, I think she'll say yes."


	7. A Vow or Two

Marian sat by the window in her study, staring out into the bright, cheerful morning. What a fucking lie, that blue sky and those chirping birds. The flowers should have been wilting and rain pouring down hard enough to send those annoying chirpers into the sea.

"Someone's gloomy today."

Merrill's voice was so chipper and sweet. Normally, it would have made Marian melt inside, and yet…

And yet everything had fallen through.

Worse, it had taken three months for it to do so.

Marian had seen a ring that absolutely reminded her of Merrill those three months ago, and she'd bought it on the spot, some giddy notion of proposing gripping her then and there. She'd been able to envision it on Merrill's slender fingers as they exchanged vows, something sweet and simple.

Then the world had decided to let some practicality slip into her daydreams, and she'd realized that the ring was likely too big.

However, that hadn't deterred her, because she'd figured it wouldn't be too hard to get Merrill's ring size.

Except that it had been a nightmare. For an entire month, she'd tried everything she could think of to be subtle. She'd laced her fingers with Merrill's every change she got, studied the size and then tried to figure out what it would translate.

However, finally, when she realized she was getting nowhere and that life was passing them by, she'd waited until Merrill was asleep one night and just tied a string around her finger for a measurement. As she'd slipped it off Merrill's slender hand, she thought she'd woken Merrill up for a moment, though she'd simply rolled over and snuggled down in bed.

From there, Marian had done her best to sneak to a jeweler's, yet even as she dropped it off, pleased with her ability to plan a surprise, it occurred to her that Dalish traditions might not include rings.

She'd already decided that she would propose when it was just the two of them—she always hated those big public proposals, because it made her feel like the proposee felt obligated to say yes. If she proposed during a quiet dinner, just the two of them, then Merrill could be honest.

Hopefully she'd say yes, but it would be better to give her the chance not to feel pressured.

The fact that it was a surprise, that no one was supposed to know, made it hard to figure out to whom she could go to ask questions about what would be appropriate. She tried perusing a few of Merrill's Dalish books, but they didn't have anything about marriage in them.

Even as she'd wondered what she could do, she'd thought of Arianni.

They'd helped her with her son, after all, so maybe she wouldn't mind talking about traditions.

So off she'd gone, only for Arianni to quickly point out that many Dalish traditions varied from clan to clan. She'd seemed ridiculously hesitant when Marian had asked if she should just go and talk to Keeper Marethari.

It had been as though she didn't want Marian going to her, but how else would she find out Merrill's traditions without spoiling the surprise?

After all, it would make sense to merge their cultures in a respectable way, wouldn't it? Marian could give her a ring and do whatever it was that the Dalish did for proposals.

She'd been thinking about how to be fair to both cultures for a while. Since she'd bought the ring, honestly.

After all, Merrill's culture was important to her, and Marian wanted to make sure she knew that Marian welcomed it as a part of their lives together. She never wanted Merrill to feel like she'd have to give something up to be with her.

Getting married in the Chantry would be out, as even if Merrill wasn't Dalish, Marian hated Kirkwall's Chantry. The one in Lothering had been perfect, smaller and filled with people who cared about helping those who needed it. Even the templars had been a good sort there.

The Chantry here only cared about looking affluent, despite the condition of the rest of the city.

Would it be better to have it with Merrill's clan? Marian knew that they weren't fond of Merrill overly so, but they still let her come through and trade and the like, so it wasn't like she was actually banished or anything.

And everyone liked happy occasions. There weren't nearly enough of them in Kirkwall.

Then she'd considered that having the entire clan present might make for a large wedding, and if it was at the clan's current home, then they would probably feel obligated to host the wedding.

She didn't want to be rude like that.

Maybe they could meet somewhere in the middle, with closest friends coming from both sides? Merrill said she didn't have many friends in the clan, but there was Keeper Marethari and Feynriel, and a few others she talked about from time to time.

And Marian wouldn't need many people on her side, either.

As she'd been musing about party favors and themes that could work without feeling too Andrastian, Varric had found her, and somehow he'd _known_.

Since he knew, she'd dragged him, Sebastian, and Fenris out to Merrill's clan to finally get some damned answers. While her eternal partner in crime was in the know, Sebastian and Fenris weren't, but she trusted that neither of them would ask too many questions.

And they hadn't.

They'd known something was up, though, as Marian had been giddy the whole way up to the Dalish clan, day dreaming about dresses and trying to imagine what a Dalish wedding dress might look like. Did they have those? Or perhaps they were robes or just formal wear?

She'd been so excited to learn about it.

And then she'd talked to Keeper Marethari.

And the dream had come to a rather abrupt end.

The keeper had been polite, but firm in her stance that if Merrill married a human, she would be exiled permanently.

There would be no ceremony with the Dalish and human cultures combined.

Marian had never felt stupider. The way the Dalish talked…everything about their culture was so insular. It made sense that they wouldn't smile upon people leaving the clan to be with humans. It was a betrayal, to them, of their ancient ways.

It should have been so obvious, and yet… She'd been stupid enough to want to do a proper Dalish proposal, like it could ever be done by a human.

The whole point of working both cultures into the proposal had been Marian's way to show Merrill that she'd never expect her to give up her culture. That she would happily help preserve it in whatever ways she could—even that damned mirror, if it would make her happy.

Yet to even ask her to marry her was a slap in the face of Dalish traditions.

"Bad dream?" Merrill asked, tugging one of the other chairs up beside Marian. She reached out and tangled their fingers together, swinging their hands a gently between them.

"It's nothing," Marian mumbled into the palm she was propping her head up with.

"Doesn't seem like nothing," Merrill noted, adjusting herself so that she could lean closer. Without thinking, Marian did the same so that they were close enough for Merrill to peck her cheek. "Should I guess?"

"No," Marian grumbled.

"Are you sure? I like guessing."

Pulling away, Marian stared at Merrill for a long, quiet moment before curling up, drawing her legs to her chest and resting her forehead against her knees. "I wanted to ask you to marry me."

"Really?"

The question took Marian by surprise, and she lifted her head to stare at Merrill. Her eyes were wide and a light dusting of red had settled on her cheeks and the tips of her ears.

"Of course really!" Marian cried out, reaching out and nearly falling off her chair as she grabbed Merrill's hands. "You're brilliant and kind and wonderful and utterly gorgeous and…" Marian tried to think of any of the speeches she'd considered for this sort of thing, but finally gave up. "And you care so much and you're thoughtful and every morning I wake up next to you makes the world a little less terrible."

Merrill, let out a sharp, joyful laugh. "Isabela was right!"

That threw Marian off for a second. "What?"

"I mentioned how you were fixating on my fingers a while back to Isabela because I wasn't really sure what that was about and didn't want to offend you if it was some Ferelden thing, and well, Isabela's been to Ferelden. But the second I told her, she said you were sizing me up for a ring." Merrill's smile brightened as she added, "An engagement ring. They're important, I'm told. They certainly sound important."

"You knew…" Marian whispered, staring at her lover in disbelief. "All this time…"

"Well, I was going to ask you about…well, your thoughts on forever, but then Isabela told me about the ring, so I thought I'd wait for you to propose."

"But you can't marry a human or…" Marian couldn't finish the sentence.

Merrill reached out and lightly brushed back some of Marian's hair, tucking it behind her ear. "Can't sleep with them either. Or perform blood magic or do quite a few of the things I do." She leaned forward and gently kissed Marian. "I've already left my clan, Hawke. I'll always be Dalish, but my path is a little different." That blush was a bit deeper as she added, "And I was hoping it might match up with yours. Because I love you, too. Your smile, your humor, how you can figure out strategies like no one else—you're quite brilliant, too, you know. And kind and sweet and beautiful. I'm quite lucky to have you."

Marian stared at her for a moment before shooting to her feet and drawing Merrill up with her, tugging her close to kiss her. Merrill's arms slid around her, tugging her closer as their mouths moved together in lovingly familiar patterns.

Then, rather abruptly, Marian pulled away. "You were waiting for me to propose."

"Mmhm," Merrill leaned after her, chasing Marian's lips with hers.

Marian's shoulders slumped. "And I ruined it by brooding."

"I think it's sweet that you went to my clan." When Marian's brow pinched together, Merrill rested her arms on Marian's shoulders, fingers laced behind her head. "I talked to Arianni while you were gone. She said she hoped my clan might be more lenient than others, considering they took Feynriel in."

Marian leaned her forehead against Merrill's. "And to think I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, I might not be surprised, but I am happy."

"Really?"

Merrill drew Marian in for another kiss. "Really really."

Suddenly, those chirping birds and all that sunshine seemed perfectly in place.


	8. Wounded on the Wounded Coast

A/N: Thank you for reading!

...-...

"You really don't have to carry me, you know that, right?"

Marian let out a huff as she adjusted her grip on Merrill and then scowled at her slender leg.

It was supposed to have been a pleasant day at the beach, a nice quiet time spent braiding hair, holding hands, and getting more than a little handsy as the waves crashed into the rocks along the shore.

And it had started off well enough, though they'd barely settled down to have lunch when templars had been upon them.

Meredith was get ballsy, sending cronies for them while they hurt a whole zero fucking people.

The reason Marian was so sure that this was Meredith's doing was because there were absolutely no orders to be found on the bodies. Not one.

They always had orders when they were hunting apostates, descriptions, a list of abilities, etc.

That these three had been out here without so much as a scrap of paper meant that whatever they were tracking wasn't meant to be discovered, should they fail.

That reeked of conspiracy, something that Anders would no doubt be willing to agree with.

Maker, he might even have information on it.

The fight had been brutal, as Marian hadn't been in her armor, and neither had had weapons immediately on hand.

Well, Merrill had turned a fork into a weapon fast enough to draw her own blood, but the templars had interrupted her, and they'd barely been able to get to their staff and sword to defend themselves.

Despite Marian charging into them and slashing recklessly every chance she got to keep their attention, one of the bastards had managed to hit Merrill's leg with his maul.

Her leg was swollen, with purple bruises already forming near the ankle.

"He missed me for the most part," Merrill added when Marian didn't set her down. "Suppose it was lucky, all in all."

"It wasn't lucky," Marian snapped, her usual, more carefree demeanor in shambles. If luck had been on their side, the templars wouldn't have found them, or in the very least, they would have heard them coming over the crashing of the waves.

As Merrill reminded her yet again that she could always heal herself well enough once the silence wore off, Marian adjusted her grip, leaning forward a little more, and doing her best not to jostle Merrill's leg.

"There are caves not far from here. We can rest there." Merrill's usually light lilt sounded a bit harder than usual as she spoke, her voice a bit strained.

"I'll take you—"

"Marian Hawke."

Her name was sharp in her ears, she straightened automatically at it, though she hastily leaned forward again when she nearly sent Merrill tumbling to the ground.

Marian glanced over her shoulder and found Merrill glaring at her, mouth a thin line. "You are going to tire yourself out and pull something." She paused a beat before adding, "And then how will we fend off the bandits when they find us?"

Hesitating, Marian adjusted her grip again. Her back _was_ starting to hurt. "There are no bandits."

"Are too."

"Are not."

Merrill lightly kicked her good heel against Marian's shin. "Are. Too."

"We cleared them out last week."

"And Aveline says there are more."

The lie was not a good one at all.

"When did you have a chance to talk to Aveline?"

"We talk," Merrill mumbled, keeping her answer vague. Thank the Maker she hadn't taken any of Isabela's or Varric's advice on making her lies more believable.

"If there are more templars about—"

"Then we'll be in even more trouble than if we run into bandits."

That…was actually a good point.

Marian struggled to find a good comeback for a moment before finally changing her course to make her way to those caves.

It was bad enough that she'd lost Carver to the ogre and Bethany to the Circle and Mother…

She didn't want to lose Merrill, too, didn't want to fail to protect someone she loved yet _again_.

But if she kept up like she was, she wouldn't be able to protect her anyway. If she'd been thinking clearly, she would have seen that.

It was just…the sight of that bastard looming over Merrill, too far for her to reach as she gutted the second templar, with her trying to block with her staff…

It had scared her.

When she finally set Merrill down, the elf hobbled her way further into the cave, using the wall as a crutch, despite Marian's protests. Marian followed close, glancing over her shoulder from time to time to make sure that no one was following them.

"Here."

When she looked back, Merrill had taken a seat on a small bit of rock jutting out from the wall and she patted the spot next to her, looking up at Marian expectantly. Even as Marian readied to protest, Merrill gave her a warning look.

Marian settled beside her, pretending as best she could that her back felt relieved for it.

They sat there in silence for a long moment before Merrill finally sighed. "I don't suppose we can go back for the picnic basket? I rather liked it."

"It was nice," Marian agreed, staring down at her feet.

Even as her shoulders slumped, Merrill looped her arm with hers and leaned her head on Marian's shoulder. "We'll be alright, you know. Templars can't get us so easily."

Maker, but she prayed that would be true.

She couldn't lose Merrill, too.


End file.
